Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
LEVI
Em, Cam, and I are lined up near the mirrors, stretching and waiting for Kamila’s Zumba class to start, when she walks up to us.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” She smiles and looks up at Cameron adoringly, like always. He moves a hand to her back.
Kami yelps and hits Cam on the arm. “Not here.”
“If memory serves, you like a little PDA.” He winks and squeezes her ass again.
“For fuck’s sake, we can hear and see you,” Em yells, and I’m right there with her. “Please tell me you’re staying in his room tonight.”
Em’s face is one of complete disgust, and I can’t help but laugh at the poor woman. She has to deal with them more often than Jake or I ever do.
Kami smiles sheepishly. Cameron, however, wears a proud grin. “Yes, she’ll be staying over at mine.”
“Thank Christ,” Em groans.
“Sorry,” Kami whispers. “All right, I have less than five minutes to get my stuff ready. I’ll see you during one of the breaks.” Cam kisses the top of her head and lets her go.
“You guys are gross. Can you go back to hating each other, please?” Em waves her hand in the air.
“Hey, Kamila’s a lot more chill now, remember that,” I say. “And we do have Cam to thank for most of it.”
“The great sex helps ease her stress.” He grins at Em, knowing how much it’ll annoy her.
She pretends to gag, and Cam and I laugh, getting into position once Kami begins her speech.
It’s similar to the one she gave last semester during her first class, except Jake isn’t here, and unlike last fall, she has students who became regulars.
The girl is wicked talented, and if it weren’t for not wanting to ruin the friendship when we first met a while ago, I would’ve asked her out in a fuckin’ heartbeat.
In the middle of her explanation, which is full of logical and straightforward class rules, I catch a glimpse of the only person who’s come in late rushing to put their things into one of the cubbies near the door.
My eyes widen because there is no way that the universe is messing with me like this.
“Isn’t that Stevie?” Em points and waves.
We haven’t spoken for two days. I never confirmed or denied her request to help her write her song. And I felt like a complete dick about it afterward. We haven’t run into each other despite living in the same apartment until now, in front of all my friends.
“Stevie!” Em whisper-yells, and that catches her attention. She briefly looks at me awkwardly before tilting her chin and smiling at Em and Cam.
She makes her way to us in a couple of steps, swiveling her hips more than usual, catching my attention in her tight gym clothes.
Emma gives her a warm hug, and she and Cam wave at each other before she turns to me.
“Hey.” Her tone is neutral, not angry or happy, just polite.
“Hi,” I say in return, attempting to give her what I’m assuming is an awkward smile.
Fuck, I really didn’t want to ruin this.
Em not only heard but saw our exchange since she looks up at me with a what the fuck look.
The last time I mentioned Stevie to my friend, she had given me advice to talk to her about why she’d been avoiding me, and instead of doing that, I denied her when she did try to speak to me.
It’s not her fault that I have issues when it comes to showing my music to other people.
So, yeah, I fucked up.
“I didn’t think this was your scene,” I whisper to her.
My roommate glances at me. “I have a list to complete, remember? Or did you not even bother to look at it when I held it up for thirty seconds right in front of your face?”
I wince at that. “Point made.”
She doesn’t say another word as Kami streams the first song on her class playlist, “MAMIII” by Becky G and Karol G.
It’s a slow warm-up, and I keep up pretty well.
Meanwhile, Stevie is struggling next to me, the same as Em.
Cameron is hitting every move correctly.
This is probably because he saw his girlfriend choreograph this over winter break.
My focus goes back to Stevie, who seems highly determined to hit every step and has her nose scrunched up in concentration. She looks innocent as always, but with a confident edge that wasn’t fully there before.
What does this class have to do with her list?
It could’ve been to come to one class or—hold on.
I never asked her why she made the list. Shit, did I reach the point of being so self-centered that I ignored everything she told me and only heard her asking me for help?
I feel awful. I was such a selfish dick that night, and all she’s been is kind and trusting.
Two more songs play, and as soon as the first two-minute break begins, I try to take Stevie aside to talk, but she heads for her water bottle and talks to Em as if they’ve been best friends for months.
“You okay, man?” Cam asks.
“I’m fine.” I take a couple of gulps from my bottle.
He chuckles, clearly unconvinced by my response, but doesn’t push for more.
Em and Stevie come back as soon as the next song plays, and the rest of the class continues this way.
I’m not able to speak to her during the five-minute break either, because Kamila also talks to her, and even Cameron joins the short conversation.
For once, I am the odd man out, but I don’t care as long as I get to speak to Stevie tonight.
Which shouldn’t be difficult, considering we live together.
Finally, the last song plays, and I rush toward Stevie before anyone else can. She’s faster than I thought, considering all my other girlfriends were short.
“Hey, can we talk? I’ll drive us back to the apartment. My car’s in the lot.”
She hardly glances at me, moves closer to the cubby, and waves goodbye to Em and the others. “Sure.”
I exhale and don’t waste any time when we step out of the gym.
“I was short with you the other day.”
She doesn’t respond but tilts her head.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
She’s quick to reply to that one. “You didn’t.”
And there I go, sounding self-centered again. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did without knowing the other things that were on the list.” I open the car door for her before she hesitates and sits in the passenger seat.
As soon as I sit in my spot, she speaks up.
“You don’t need to help me, Levi. I understand where you’re coming from, even though the way you said it was a little…
jerkish.” I nod, agreeing. “But I can do most of the things on my list alone, like learning how to dance.” She pauses.
“Well, with Kamila’s help, but it still counts. ”
Ah, her taking the class suddenly makes sense. Turning the engine on, I look at her, still feeling guilt in the pit of my stomach. I’m about to speak, but she quickly cuts me off.
“You’re not going to help me with the song, are you?”
Fuckkkk. I don’t respond. She knows the answer. I’m such a pussy.
“I’m sorry, Bam—”
“There’s something else you can help me with.”
Exhaling, disappointed that she didn’t allow me to finish using the nickname I chose for her, I say, “Anything.”
She clears her throat. “Do you know any other musicians who would be willing to help me write the music and lyrics for my song?” She’s quick to specify. “Someone with experience and for a reasonable price? I asked my dad for money, so I’m all set with that.”
I’m silent for a moment while I process what she asked of me. She asked her dad for money when I would have done it for free, but I understand why she thought she needed it, since I had said no to start with. And my response remains the same because once again, I’m a pussy.
“Does this mean we’re good?”
I park a block away from our place.
She turns and smiles. “We’re good, Hotshot.”
Nodding and smiling, relieved, we both open the doors and get out of the car.
That was much easier than I expected. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Before I can overanalyze the brief conversation we had, Stevie speaks up again.
“So, any musicians you can think of?”
“Um…” I stutter over my words. There’s only one person I can think of who has the time and talent to help Stevie.
It feels weird recommending somebody I don’t know well.
Still, I’ve heard nothing but good things about his music.
However, when it comes to girls, he can be a bit of a womanizer.
There hasn’t been any talk of him being creepy or forceful, it’s more about flirting and winning them over with his charm.
Since Stevie went through what I’m assuming was an intense breakup, I doubt she’d fall for his advances, not that it’s any of my fucking business.
“I know one guy. He’s talented and experienced, but has a reputation for being a playboy.”
Stevie turns to me before taking the first step up the staircase to our apartment. An indiscernible expression covers her face.
“I can handle myself.”
With that, she requests his information and gets ready for bed. And for some reason, I’m not entirely convinced that we’re okay.
Typing the last line of an essay, I sag against my headboard and look up at the ceiling.
This week has been fucking exhausting. I added another student to my roster after one decided she no longer wanted to play the guitar.
Luckily, this kid only lives ten minutes away, and I was able to close my roster for the semester.
I’m fully booked and can pay all the bills I need to, which I should be cheering for instead of complaining like an ungrateful asshole.
Deciding I need a snack and drink, I head to the kitchen.
Every time I open the refrigerator door, I’m reminded that I now live with a roommate who can cook.
Stevie preps her meals for the week, and all the containers are labeled and stacked neatly on top of each other.
Even though I work out a decent amount, it still makes me feel lazy as hell not doing the same.